


America

by entirelynogoodNSFW (entirelynogood)



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Ending, Alternate Universe, F/M, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-13 01:05:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9099376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/entirelynogood/pseuds/entirelynogoodNSFW
Summary: In an attempt to escape their past, Eren, Armin, and Mikasa have emigrated to America. But the new locale comes with its own set of problems.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _This fic is based on the assumption that everything is as okay as it possibly can be in the end, and that the rest of the world followed more or less the same course as real life history._  
>   
> 
> Critique is welcome (especially the lewd parts, I've never written anything explicit before haha) and if you see a spelling or grammar error please point it out so I can fix it!

The strangers came to Riverside via railway, each with a small suitcase containing all of their worldly possessions. But they weren't destitute like their lack of belongings suggested; their first order of business after securing temporary lodging was to inquire about any unoccupied houses in the area (preferably on the outskirts of town, without any stated reason why). So clearly the three had some money reserved for setting up residence in a new locale. 

Being that the town was small enough that most folks knew or at least knew of their fellow citizens, word of new people moving in travelled quickly, especially since these were not only newcomers, but mysterious foreigners who stubbornly refused to elaborate on certain aspects of their past. 

But this didn't stop some people from trying to wheedle more information from them, and opportunity was certainly there, as for lack of any facilities devoted to housing travelers, the trio had been offered temporary lodging in a back room of the general store, working in the store instead of paying outright (which was a counterpoint to anyone speculating on them being secretly fabulously wealthy).

What was known amongst gossip circles was, as follows: 

The blonde young man with the honest face was one Armin Arlert. He said (in fluent English) that he'd nearly finished schoolteacher's training back on the East Coast, but was forced to leave due to unforeseen circumstance. Armin explained that he hoped to either finish the curriculum elsewhere or find a town that wasn't terribly picky about his credentials. It was only a piece of paper, after all.

Next was Mikasa Ackerman. She wore a tattered red scarf, even in the heat of summer, and seemed rather quiet, though some had observed her talking spiritedly with her companions. At first it was assumed she had immigrated from somewhere else and befriended the other two in the big city, but soon the rumor was soon established to be incorrect, and furthermore, she had explained, it was incredibly rude to make assumptions like that. 

Last, and subject to more rumors and whispers than the first two, was the tall, grim-looking man that Armin informed the populace was named Eren Yeager. Some folks were afraid to approach him; his unkempt, shoulder-length hair and habit of dressing as if he were perpetually headed to a funeral (albeit one with rather casual dress standards) didn't help to make him seem approachable. And he only spoke about five words in English anyway, so those who did try mostly got confused stares from him. If anyone had bothered to look at him a bit closer, they'd have seen he was the same age as his friends, but few bothered to do that even after only a few days.

Currently, Eren was hauling a heavy crate across the sales floor, grumbling what were most definitely swear words in his native tongue.

The middle aged woman in the calico dress leaned on the counter, mid transaction, watching him growl and curse at the shipping container. "Where did you say you were from again?" 

"Europe," Armin said, not looking up from the length of fabric he was cutting from the bolt for her. He was always purposely vague, but his accent always betrayed him. This time was no different.

The woman's onslaught continued. "You three family?" 

Armin folded the fabric, set his scissors down, and met her gaze. "Childhood friends," he corrected gently. "We lost our families when we were young, so we've always stuck together."

She handed Armin some coin, and glanced sideways at Eren as her change was counted out. He had opened the crate, and was restocking boxes of laundry soap. His griping seemed to have quieted for the moment. "I do hope your friend warms up to living here. It must be lonely not being able to talk to anyone." She brightened up and continued. "I'm sure if he works on his English he could find a nice girl, get married, and start a family. You could, too."

Armin smiled and agreed that maybe someday he would, and gave her change, ushering her out of the store. That was another topic he was uncomfortable to get into with anyone outside a very small circle of friends. It was easier to go along with well-intentioned strangers than try to explain anything about his love life to them. 

In the time it took him to shoo the customer on her way, Eren had slipped behind the counter and was helping himself to the store's stock of tobacco. Smoking was a new habit he'd picked up in the city during a brief stint as a construction worker. He said it calmed him, and Armin and Mikasa had just shrugged and let him have his vice.

But "borrowing" things from the store was out of the question. "You can't just take that, Eren," Armin scolded. 

Eren wiped his hair out of his face, finished rolling his cigarette, and lit it with matches that were thankfully already paid for some time ago, and sat on the counter. 

Armin sighed and took enough money to cover what was taken from his own pocket, putting it into the till.

"You shouldn't sit there either, it looks bad on our part."

Eren responded by shooting a great big cloud of smoke out of his nose, and Armin was painfully reminded of why they had to head west in the first place.

There'd been a misunderstanding in a bar, which escalated to a scuffle, which escalated to a fistfight, which ended as a full-fledged disaster when someone slashed into Eren's face with a broken bottle. Witnesses' stories conflicted a bit from there, but authorities gathered there had been a thunderous explosion, and an unearthly scream. Some said they saw a great beast with too many teeth in the center of the smoke and debris; others said it was impossible to see a damn thing and anyone claiming otherwise had an overactive imagination. In the aftermath, rumors that it had been the devil himself manifesting on Earth, spitting smoke and fire and dragging every unlucky person in his vicinity down to Hell, had flourished.

Terrified that someone might suss out what really happened, and what sort of fate that might mean for them, the trio skipped town. Eren fell into a pit of self-loathing on train ride out of the city, and still hadn't gotten over it, no matter how many times he was reminded that it was a case of him being in the wrong place at the wrong time, and therefore not his fault.

And he could tell Armin was thinking about it again, judging by the look on his face. Armin was the only one to really lose anything, after all, so he had all the more reason to ruminate. "I'm sorry," Eren murmured, casting his gaze down to the floorboards. 

Armin gave a quick, furtive glance around to make sure nobody was near the windows, then crossed the distance between the two quickly and stood on his toes to give Eren a peck on the cheek. "We'll survive, love. We always have."

Eren took a long, slow drag on his cigarette, then apologized again through the ensuing cloud of smoke. "I keep making a mess of things. I'm sorry. The only thing I was good at was fighting and there's nothing left to fight. I'm useless."

Armin took his hand, squeezing it. "I hate seeing you down like this. I'm sure Mikasa would say the same if she heard you saying that."

"Don't tell her, one of you trying to cheer me up is bad enough." Eren folded his arms across his chest and looked out the large front window. The shop was technically a pretty big building, but the array of shelves and open containers of various goods made it seem much smaller.

Outside, the afternoon shadows were lengthening; it would be nearly sundown in just a few hours.

Eren let out one final stream of smoke, and leaned against Armin, letting his head rest awkwardly against the smaller man's shoulder. "It's been a slow day. Let's close up early," he said softly. It was innocuous enough that even if someone who understood German overheard, they would think nothing of it. But it carried a vastly different meaning between Eren and Armin.

Armin laughed just a little and shrugged. "I suppose we could." He did a quick check of the store to make sure things were in order, then locked the door and turned the sign in the window to _closed_.

The door behind the counter was the door to the back room that they were staying in. On one side, were boxes and crates of merchandise, neatly stacked and arranged. On the other was a small wood-burning stove and a makeshift living space, taken up mostly by the three bedrolls set out on the floor. It was small, but felt cozy rather than claustrophobic. 

Eren practically pounced on Armin as soon as the door was shut behind them, kissing him like he might never see him again (which made sense; there was a time when that most certainly was the case). Armin hated the way the tobacco smoke on Eren's breath tasted, but he grabbed a fistful of the taller man's shirt collar and pulled him down deeper into the kiss anyway. Eren's hands wandered, first down Armin's back, then under his shirt and back up. Armin reached up and ran his fingers through Eren's hair. He hadn't ever said anything, but he liked the way Eren looked with it longer like this. He tugged gently at Eren's hair, then let his hands trail down Eren's chest, coming to a rest on his belt buckle. 

Eren moaned softly in anticipation and tried to grind himself against Armin, but the blonde pulled back and stopped him. "You absolutely _can not_ be loud," he warned, looking directly into Eren's eyes to emphasize the point.

"Q-quiet as a mouse," Eren stammered as he absently attempted to rub himself against Armin's hands. "Promise."

It was then that Armin went to work with the buckle again, expertly unfastening it and letting it fall to the floor with Eren's pants. He turned his attention to his own belt, which seemed to be giving Eren some trouble. Once he'd kicked his own pants off, he took hold of Eren's collar again, made sure to shove Mikasa's bedroll aside, and pulled him down to the two that remained on the floor.

Armin unbuttoned his own shirt while Eren simply pulled his off over his head. Both had lost the muscle mass that had been vital to the use of 3D Maneuver Gear years ago, but that was expected and of little concern. Having one less reminder that the past really happened was preferable to both of them, though Armin felt a pang of worry over how how thin Eren was looking lately. He resolved to badger him about it later. 

They unceremoniously wriggled free of their respective underwear, and Eren pulled Armin into an embrace, taking the smaller man with him as he flopped onto the bedroll. They picked up where they left off, kissing and touching and breathing heavily. Armin let his hands migrate slowly toward Eren's crotch, gently running his fingertips along Eren's cock when he got there, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from from the larger man. Meanwhile, Eren was trying his best to return the favor while maintaining enough composure to stay as silent as possible. Despite his divided attention, he was successful, and it was Armin who had to stifle a moan next.

This continued for some time, until Armin could feel himself becoming almost painfully hard. "Which way do you want to do this?" Armin panted against Eren's mouth.

"Y-you do it," Eren said, blushing hard. Armin got halfway up, just enough to reach his suitcase, and fumbled around for the jar of oil he had hidden in it. He poured a bit into his hand and rubbed it onto his own member to start, then began gently working the lubricant into Eren's ass with his fingers, stopping partway through the process to pour more oil into his hand. Eren whined impatiently a few times while Armin worked at getting him ready, and Armin preemptively shushed him. 

"Quiet, okay? We can't have people hear us and start asking questions."

"I know." There was quiet for a moment, then Eren spoke again. " _Please_ don't stop. I can handle i-" As if on cue, Eren had to bite his lip to keep his volume under control. 

That was good enough for Armin, and he gently pushed into Eren. He started slow and cautious, keeping an eye on Eren's face for any expressions of discomfort. This went on for a minute or two, until Armin was satisfied that things were going well. Armin began to thrust faster and harder, and Eren quickly fell into rhythm with the increased pace; it was an act well rehearsed for both of them. And true to his word, Eren was keeping all of his vocalizations remarkably quiet. Armin found it rather impressive, to be honest. Under normal circumstances, the majority of Eren's sex noises were loud enough to wake the dead. As if responding to Armin's thoughts, Eren let out a low whining sound, a signal that he was getting close. Armin's thoughts began to slip away from him, and he let them go, content to lose himself in the moment. His thrusting became erratic, which pushed Eren over the edge, and had Armin following suit just a moment after.

Eren sprawled out on the bedrolls, with Armin collapsed on top of him. "I love you," Eren panted, kissing the top of Armin's head. Armin was still breathing too hard to reply, but he was sure Eren knew he returned the sentiment.


	2. Chapter 2

Through the fog in his brain Armin heard the lock in the door turning, and then the creak of the hinges as it swung open. 

"Why is it," Mikasa said as she set her things down and re-locked the door, "that every time I leave you two alone with the shop, I find you like this when I come home?" Her words might have sounded scolding if her tone hadn't been one of amusement.

Eren lifted his head just enough to look up at her, flashing a stupid grin. "It's a shame you were out, Mika," he said, "if you were home you could have joined in." 

She ignored his lewd comment, but a smile played at the corner of her mouth. "It's nice to see you in high spirits, Eren." Gracefully stepping over the sticky tangle of limbs that currently made up Eren and Armin, Mikasa began rearranging things by the stove in preparation for cooking. "Armin, I could use your help with this."

Armin ungracefully rolled off of Eren, and started to wash up and get dressed. 

Eren propped himself up on his elbows, watched quietly for a moment, then asked, "What about me? Should I help too?"

Mikasa looked him up and down, then raised an eyebrow at him. "Not in the state you're in right now," she deadpanned. On the other side of the room, Armin paused midway through buttoning his shirt to throw the washrag he'd been using at Eren. It landed on his foot with a wet plop, and he got to work wiping himself off.

By the stove, Armin and Mikasa speculated about the possibility of finding a vacant house in town. "We'll have an actual countertop again," Mikasa said wistfully. "No more having to shove things around to make space on old boxes."

"And more than one pan?"

"Armin, we'll buy one hundred pots and pans."

Pulling his shirt back on, Eren approached Mikasa, sharing a quick kiss with her before waiting for instruction.

"We've got this under control," Mikasa said. "If you want to help out you could sweep out there-" she gestured toward the door to the storefront "-or wash the big window."

Eren scowled at this. "Again?" While initially neutral toward window washing, it was rapidly becoming his most detested chore.

"Well," Mikasa said, not looking up from her work, "you've seen how kids put their hands and faces all over it."

Sighing and rolling his eyes, Eren stalked off to the storefront. Keeping the big display window clean was a neverending struggle, and its ability to never remain clean for long was infuriating. But he got to work on it anyway, there was little daylight remaining and it was much harder to see the streaks and smudges at night. 

Partway through cleaning, he began to notice his reflection. Overgrown hair, stupid, pointy nose, and his godforsaken father's eyes. He worked doggedly to look as little like the man as he could, which wasn't nearly as much as he would have liked; there were only so many things about his appearance that he had control over. 

_"I hate you,"_ Eren growled at the parts of his reflection that looked the most like his father.

He continued on cleaning the glass, repeating his angry mantra every time he caught a glimpse of himself, until he wasn't even sure he was referring to his father anymore at all. Somewhere behind him, he was aware of people passing by, speaking words he didn't understand but assumed were comments on his current behavior.

When Eren got to the end of the window, he could feel his face burning and his ears ringing and a sick sort of tension in the pit of his stomach. 

He dropped his cleaning supplies on the ground, and started walking to clear his head. 

Several passerby looked warily at him, and a couple even crossed to the other side of the road to avoid being near him. The small size of the town's main drag and the speed at which Eren was walking meant he didn't have terribly far to go before he reached open space. 

Fireflies had begun to come out, and nighttime insects were already chirping and thrumming in the twilight. Eren sat down on the grass, watching the tiny flickers of light float through the air. In the distance, he could hear children laughing and shouting. Children who would never have to live behind walls, for whom man-eating monsters were just a spooky story. He shifted so that he was sitting with his elbows on his knees and his face resting on his hands. He could have been born into any part of the world, and yet fate was cruel enough that the existence he had known for the first twenty years of his life was one of fear and famine and loss. The soft flashes of light from the fireflies began to blur as bitter tears started to well up in his eyes. Eren took a shaky breath and pinched the bridge of his nose to stop himself from crying before he got properly started.

Behind him, he heard a rustling of footsteps in the grass, and felt the warmth of the hand that was laid on his back. He didn't need to look up to know it was Mikasa; she had been comforting him for so many years that he could tell it was her by touch alone. 

She sat down next to him, and wrapped her arm around his shoulders, saying nothing, but words were unnecessary. It was the physical closeness to someone who cared and understood that mattered. Eren leaned toward her, burying his face in the old scarf around her neck. The scent and feel of the worn garment was soothing and familiar. "Do you ever just... think, 'what if we'd never lived on that island?'" Eren said, voice muffled through the heavy knit fabric. 

Mikasa put her other arm around him. "I have, yes."

Eren slumped further into her arms. "And?" he said. 

"And it would be easy to drive yourself crazy thinking about what could have been," she continued. "So you leave it behind you because you can't change it."

Eren groaned in frustration, sinking lower so that he was lying on the ground with his head resting on Mikasa's lap. She absentmindedly brushed the stray strands of hair from his face. "It's not that easy, Mika. If it was I'd never think about it again."

"I didn't say it was," she said bluntly, though not unkindly. "You just have to keep trying." A firefly strayed close to Mikasa's hand, and she raised up her fingers just a little so it landed on her. "Look, Eren, it wants to be friends." She angled her hand so it walked upwards onto Eren's forehead. 

The insect immediately sought higher ground, clambering up onto the tip of Eren's nose, then pulling its little legs under it and springing off into the air. 

"Or maybe it's so small it thought you were a mountain."

Eren scowled. "Because my nose looks like one," he said in a spiteful tone.

Mikasa brushed another stray hair from Eren's face. " _And_ it's very handsome," she added. "Were you only thinking about what-ifs? Nothing else?"

As much as he was loathe to talk about it, Eren found it impossible to not spill his secrets to her. He made a frustrated grumbling sound, then told her everything, concluding with, "I'm twenty-two years old and already can't stand how much I look like him. What will it be like when I'm thirty? Forty?"

"Oh, Eren," Mikasa said, maybe just a little amused that _this_ was his current crisis. "No, you look like you." She laughed a little. "Although with your hair like that, you look a little more like..." she didn't say it, but waved her hand over her head, miming out the concept of something very tall. "You know."

And he did know, and acknowledged it by baring his teeth and making a horrible snarling sound.

Mikasa stared in shock, then burst out laughing so hard that she doubled over, almost knocking heads with Eren. "I never," she wheezed, "in a hundred thousand years, expected a you to joke about _that_."

Eren replied by play biting at her. He didn't know why, but right now, making light of this seemed right, and made him feel better about the current state of his life. In the back of his mind, he made a note that perhaps he should try to be silly more often.

"I'm glad you're feeling better," Mikasa said, leaning down again to kiss his cheek. 

With a dramatic fake roar, Eren pushed himself onto his knees, and very gently tackled Mikasa to the ground. 

" _What's gotten into you?_ " She asked, pushing him off of her so that he was lying in the grass by her side. 

"I don't know," Eren said, snuggling against her. "But it's better than being sad." Immediately upon vocalizing it, Eren felt the same old sorrow creeping back into his mind. "I'm so tired of being sad."

Taking his hand, Mikasa pointed up at the fireflies. The sun had finished its descent, and the insects were out en masse, making the space they gathered look like a second, much closer starry sky. "Let's watch them, then, and put the unpleasant things away for now."

Eren watched for a few minutes, then turned toward Mikasa and buried his face in her hair, and totally lost track of time. The only indication that it had been awhile was when Armin came up to the field, carrying a lantern and wondering where they'd got off to.

In the end he joined them, and they stayed out until the night became too chilly for the fireflies to remain out.

When they went to bed it was quite late, and so they were some of the last in town to hear of what happened in the early hours of the next morning.

***

Since the entire storefront was flooded with morning sunlight, it took quite some time for Armin to see that a small crowd had gathered in the street. Shading his eyes, he opened the door and stepped outside. The calico woman from the day before was there, sporting a striped dress and a sun hat this time, and turned toward him with wide eyes when she heard the shop's door open. "Oh, dear, I don't know if you've heard the news," she said. "Ed Harrington's passed on."

"Who?" Armin said. It was not the most polite way to inquire about the deceased, but he hadn't been awake long enough to fully remember his manners. 

"Harrington?" She repeated, phrased as a question this time. "The old schoolmaster?"

Armin felt his blood run cold. This was too strange a coincidence; it couldn't be real. But it was, and he caught glimpses of the funeral proceedings throughout the day. Every time a person walked into the store, his heart hammered in his chest; every time was a chance he might be asked to take over where the old man had left off. 

Several hours into Armin's day, Eren emerged from the back room, the sound of the door making Armin jump. 

"Something wrong?" Eren said through a lungful of cigarette smoke. 

"The schoolmaster's dead," Armin explained.

"Hope you didn't kill him," he teased, and sat on the damn counter again. 

Armin rolled his eyes and tried to shove Eren off the countertop. "Of course I didn't." And he obviously hadn't, since opening up shop he'd gleaned more information from customers, and it turned out that the man had been quite elderly, and went peacefully in his sleep. "You know I appreciate your company, Eren, but I need you to _get off the counter_."

Eren stood, and walked slowly and aimlessly around the immediate area. "Okay, okay, I'm off the counter." He scratched the back of his neck with his free hand and puffed on the cigarette quietly for a moment. "Well, this isn't any fun at all. I'm going back to bother Mikasa." But he covertly blew Armin a kiss as he exited the room, just to make sure the smaller man knew he wasn't actually upset with him.

In the storage room, Mikasa was writing in the store ledger and writing down things on an order form. "Hello, Mikasa," he said, looming over her as she wrote.

"Hello dear." Mikasa said absently, continuing on with her work. "I've got to get this done, if you could move out of the light." She motioned him aside, so he was on the other side of the lamp that lit the windowless storeroom. 

Eren sat on the floor, and finished his smoke in silence, the only sound being the scratching of Mikasa's ink pen. Just as Eren was getting ready to comment on how dull the current moment was, Armin burst into the room, hand clutching a sheet of paper to his chest and an odd expression on his face. "They..." He panted. "They asked me." Taking a deep breath, Armin tried again. "They did it. They... They asked me about working for the replacement teacher."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm using a random name generator for the townsfolk.
> 
> And again, if you spot any spelling and grammar errors, I would very much appreciate having them pointed out! :D <3
> 
> Last, I promise proper EreMika is going to happen soon.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My homie (smallmanbecomesbigman on tumblr) helped with beta reading for this chapter, especially writing and speculating on Mikasa's behavior during sex. :y

Armin appeared to waver where he stood, and Eren leapt to his feet and strode over, putting his arm around the smaller man to help him stay on his feet. After a minute or two of silence during which Armin calmed down, he explained the situation further. "I don't have the proof that I know what I'm doing, so I can't just take it over."

"That's still a step in the right direction, Armin," Mikasa said, patting his shoulder. 

Armin nodded silently, taking deep breaths and hoping the light-headedness would go away. Part of him felt guilty that his good fortune involved someone else's death, but it wasn't the first time another's death benefited him, and it was under circumstances far less tragic in this instance. 

He closed his eyes and kept his focus on breathing.

When Eren broke the silence, Armin registered the feeling of sound reverberating in the taller man's throat a few seconds before he was able to connect meaning to the words. 

"We should celebrate," Eren mused, scratching his chin with his free hand. 

Mikasa put her foot down immediately. "Eren, no." 

Eyes still closed, Armin felt, rather than saw, Eren gesturing with frustration as he spoke. He really didn't need to look to know exactly what Eren was doing; the way he moved his hands and arms when he was talking remained a constant since they were children. 

"I didn't mean anything that can get us in _trouble_ , I meant something quiet, here, with just us." 

"That... might actually be nice," Mikasa conceded. "But _absolutely_ no _'trouble._ '"

 _Trouble_ , Armin realized, was quickly becoming Mikasa's personal euphemism of choice for accidental use of Titan power. And he agreed, in his head; they really didn't need to go through uprooting again so soon.

"Cross my heart, hope to die," Eren said dryly, and Armin got the distinct impression that they were both rolling their eyes at each other. "I'm going out front, the shop can't watch itself," he announced, then spoke a bit softer toward Armin's ear, "Will you fall if I let you go?"

"No, I can stand just fine," Armin assured him, and leaned up to kiss his cheek. "Thank you."

Eren shut the door quietly as he let himself out. 

"He's probably got some kind of ulterior motive," Mikasa said, still looking at the space that Eren had been occupying.

Armin shrugged. "I can go babysit him for you while you're working on the books. Unless you'd rather switch?"

Mikasa shook her head, no. "I'm almost done with this. I'll just join you two when I'm done."

Armin left her alone after that, though she stopped to laugh when she heard him scolding Eren about something. Sitting on the bolts of fabric, by what words she could make out. As used as they were to Eren acting the part of a petulant child, and as much patience as they had for him, Mikasa had to admit that it would be nice if he would just _try_ to help himself out of the rut he'd fallen into. Especially since despite what happened in the city, she continued to hope for a future where they could settle down and have children. 

Once upon a time, he had been open to the possibility. The three had discussed it at length several occasions before they had to abandon their life back East. After that however, Eren had started insisting he was awful and bad and unfit to ever be a father every time the subject came up. 

Mikasa scratched the grand total of the week's transactions onto the ledger's page and paused to let the ink dry. 

But Eren's uncertainty was fine; there was still time enough for Eren to pull himself together, and so it did no good to fret over what the future might hold. And even if things went differently than what she envisioned, they had each other.

Mikasa stood, and stretched; her legs and back had become a bit cramped from leaning over the ledger. Then she joined the others in the storefront.

Eren had taken to sulkily dusting the tops of the shelves, and Armin was weighing dried beans for a man in a gray shirt. She took up a broom and a dustpan and waged the day's battle against dirt and mud tracked in by customers.

Eventually, the shadows grew longer, and the day began drawing to a close. The store's owner (a short man in his forties by the surname Stuart) checked in with them briefly before hurrying back up to his home on the second floor. He seemed to be enjoying the free time having his shop run for him entailed, even more so now that it had been long enough that he trusted them enough to leave them to it.

The evening started routinely enough, and it wasn't until after the sparse set of dishes they'd used for supper were washed and packed away that Eren gave and indication he even remembered what he'd said earlier. 

From somewhere in his belongings, he produced a smallish bottle of... some sort of strong liquor by the look of it. 

"Where did you even get that?" Armin asked, eyeing him suspiciously. 

"Relax, Armin, I bought it ages ago. I've been saving it for when the time felt right. A day when something really good, or something terrible happened." He fumbled with the bottle, trying to dislodge the stopper.

At length, he managed to get the thing opened. Not one of the three drank much or often, so when Eren took the first sip, he did so ineptly and coughed and choked and sputtered on it.

Armin paced his breathing and did a bit better when it was his turn, but his eyes welled up with tears when the burn of the alcohol hit him. He wiped his face on his sleeve, and passed the liquor to Mikasa. Stoic as she tried to appear, she still ended up coughing just a little.

"I don't know why I let you drag me into this," she grumbled to Eren as she passed him the bottle. "That tastes terrible."

"The ends," Eren said sagely, "justify the means." And he downed more and only choked on it a little bit.

They continued the method of passing the bottle of liquor in a circle, until Mikasa began to feel affected by the alcohol, and declined any more. Armin tried to keep going, but was a lightweight, and ended up clinging to Eren to stay upright. And true to his usual hardheaded determination, Eren managed to finish the last of it off. 

Which was a mistake, because the room started spinning before his eyes and he had to lie back on the floor. Armin, who was still holding onto him for balance, went with him.

"Sorry, Armin," Eren apologized, and tried to kiss him, but Armin was already giggling madly and they ended up laying there laughing with their faces pressed together instead. When he'd regained some composure, Armin snuggled up against Eren's chest. The larger man smelled like at least a day's worth of sweat and stale smoke, which would have been off-putting had it been anyone else. Instead, though, it made Armin feel safe, as his scent had during the years they'd spent huddled together in the barracks, fighting sleep because each night could've been their last. This was no longer the case, of course, and Armin was able to relax easily. In fact, the alcohol made his eyelids feel terribly heavy, and soon he was out like a light, fast asleep in Eren's arms. 

Eren rolled over, away from Armin, and raised his eyebrows at Mikasa. "Well, we... we're alone now, Mika," he said, slurring just a little. The room had settled into its usual, completely stationary position, and Eren was feeling better than he had in awhile -- warm and happy with a strange but pleasant sensation that he was melting and sinking into the ground. He smiled lopsidedly when Mikasa lay on the floor as well so that she was face to face with him. 

"And?" Mikasa asked, but her tone led Eren to believe she had a good idea as to where things were going. And as if to prove it, she slid her arm over him and down, until her hand was resting on his rear.

Eren opened his mouth but only ended up making a garbled, flustered sound. He stopped, pulled all the wits he had left together, and tried again. "Exactly." He felt Mikasa's hand grip onto his bottom harder in response. "Exactly, yes!" he stammered. Mikasa laughed at his drunken solicitation, and pushed him over onto his back, straddling him.

"You're sure you're sober enough for it?" She asked. 

Eren felt his face getting unbearably hot. "Yes!" He cried out, just a little louder than he expected. In response, Mikasa leaned down to kiss him on the lips. As she did, he became acutely aware of the feel of her body pressing down on his, and the beginnings of a tightness in his pants. Eren kissed back with everything he had, wrapping his arms around her, though pulling her any closer was not physically possible.

"Mikasa..." he gasped against her mouth, squirming in an effort to make his trousers feel a little less like a prison. "Mika..." He propped himself up on his elbows. "Mika, please..."

She moved away and sat next to him instead. Eren looked at her as he sat up as well. "Lie back, Mika?" He requested.

She narrowed her eyes at him, but decided to go along with it for now. She scooted close and Eren pushed up her long skirt. He lowered himself down toward her, just until she could feel the warmth of his breath and the tickle of his hair brushing her skin. And he stopped, hovering there, teasing her. Clearly, the liquid courage in his system was emboldening him, making him push his luck with her. 

She grabbed him by the back of his shirt collar like she was a scruffing an unruly animal. " _Do it,_ " she hissed through her teeth, and Eren wasted no time moving the rest of the way into position to lick and suck at her clit. She panted and let out an occasional low moan as he worked, and seemed to be lost in the moment, but when he tried to free himself from the confines of his trousers, she pushed his hand away. 

This continued for some time, until Mikasa grabbed his shirt again. "Lie down," she commanded. She stripped the rest of her garments off. But Eren wasn't fully on his back yet. She put her hands on his shoulders, shoved him down with a loud thump, and positioned herself astride him as she had been initially. And while it sounded like it hurt, and certainly did, Eren's real feelings about it were made more than clear by how hard he was panting and blushing just from being pushed around a little. And now it was her turn to tease him. "Are you sure you're ready?" She asked, glaring into his eyes. 

"Y-yes," Eren stammered. 

Mikasa grinned wickedly. "I'm not convinced."

"Yes Mikasa!" Eren huffed. "Please, Mikasa, I'm ready." 

"Much better," she said, and helped him with removing his pants.

She positioned herself over him, using one hand for balance and the other to guide his cock into her. Eren bit his lip and groaned as she lowered herself fully onto him. 

Mikasa rolled her hips slowly a couple of times before she picked up her pace and began to fuck him in earnest. As much as he wanted to contribute his own efforts to the proceedings, Eren found he couldn't; he was totally transfixed by the sight of Mikasa's body in the lamplight. It didn't take long before he was close to climax, and Mikasa saw it, and pulled off of him. She straddled him again, and leaned down to whisper in his ear. A smirk played across her lips when she saw how much she was making him whimper and squirm. "You're not done until _I_ give you _permission_ ," she hissed. Eren's face lit up very bright red indeed, and he let out a strangled moan. 

"Mi-Mika. Please. I'll do anything."

Mikasa regarded him and his predicament, then named her price. "I want to come first." She shifted her position so that Eren could service her orally again. He obliged, but as he did she felt his arm moving down to touch himself. " _Hands behind your head, Yeager,_ " she snarled. 

"Yes!" came Eren's muffled reply. He put his hands up but gave a soft whine in the back of his throat in protest. 

"Good boy," Mikasa said, caressing the side of his head. Due to the same sort of attention she'd received earlier, it didn't take long before Mikasa could feel her own orgasm building, until it was almost painful, until it was surging through her and all she could do was brace herself so she didn't fall awkwardly over on Eren's head as her muscles spasmed and shook. She gritted her teeth to keep silent until she could feel her orgasm waning and finally fading. 

"Now it's your turn," Mikasa panted, kissing Eren's cheek as she moved to his side, and began to expertly stroke his cock with her hand. Normally, she would have drawn it out longer, moving excruciatingly slowly until he was begging and pleading with her, but she wasn't certain he could handle it in his inebriated state. So she gave him the small mercy of being finished off quickly. Eren bucked and thrashed as he came, then promptly collapsed, lying on the floor in a daze. Mikasa wiped her hands on his shirt, then got shakily to her feet to put out the lamp. 

She shut it off and rejoined him, kissing him briefly before nestling down against his side.

They lay in the dark for a bit, not saying anything because there was no need to. After some time, Eren began to fidget and scrabble around in the dark for his matches and smokes, and broke the silence after locating them.

"Mikasa," He began, pausing briefly mid-sentence to light a cigarette, "I could tell you were holding back tonight."

Her shoulder moved against him as she spoke, telltale evidence of a shrug accompanying her words. 

He frowned. "You didn't... you wouldn't..." The thoughts were in his head, clear as day, but translating them to spoken word was proving to be tricky. "It's not because you feel sorry for me, is it? Or because you're afraid I'll break?" 

There was a creeping tightness in his chest, like his fears and doubts were physically growing there, and pressing on his vital organs as they did. 

Mikasa gave him an awkward, one-armed hug, and kissed his neck. "No, dear, that's not it at all." She pointed behind him, toward Armin's sleeping form. "I was sparing him from us."

The insecurity festering in Eren's chest dissipated. "Oh," he said. "I didn't think about that." 

Seeing Eren getting roughhoused, even when his friend was a willing participant, struck a whole cluster of nerves for Armin. The first time Armin walked in on them and saw what they got up to, he'd been so distressed that he'd sobbed inconsolably. Explaining the situation only went so far toward making him feel better. So they decided they would be careful that he never accidentally saw them doing anything violent again. 

As if on cue, Armin mumbled in his sleep, and sat bolt upright. He glanced around, located Eren, and got up close to him. This wasn't unusual, if he wasn't sleeping by Eren's side, he would get up and find him in his sleep (he never remembered doing it, and he never said actual words that made sense when spoken to while he did it).

It was cute three quarters of the year, but torturous in the summer. Thankfully, this particular summer night wasn't so warm that things were unbearable.

Unable to find an angle to continue smoking that didn't risk burning either Armin or Mikasa, Eren snuffed out his cigarette by pinching the burning end between his fingers. It hurt, but not for long. In the dark, he could just make out a thin trickle of steam emanating from his hand as the skin seethed and roiled and repaired itself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. I hope I made it clear enough that the way Mikasa treats Eren during sex is 100% consensual. 
> 
> 2\. I don't know that I can work it into the story but if their safe word comes up it'd be "JEAN KIRSTEIN." It was too funny an idea to not at least add as a note somewhere.
> 
> 3\. Another thing I'm not certain I can work in without coming off as blatantly screaming, "LOOK AT THIS RESEARCH I DID!!" is that I feel like Mikasa would absolutely have the foresight to utilize the sorts of contraceptives that existed way back when.


End file.
